The Memory Taker
by LittleOwlet
Summary: Isn't it funny how the most clearest of memories are the ones we hide away, the most painful ones we can't bare. Isn't it funny how we think the clearest memories we have are actually the foggiest. I am the Greek goddess of clear memories, though you would probably know me better as the Memory Taker. I take the memories of the deceased.
1. The Memory Taker

**The Memory Taker**

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><p>Isn't it funny how the most clearest of memories are the ones we hide away, the most painful ones we can't bare. They are the most painful, yet the most important and the most accurate. Isn't it funny how we think the clearest memories we have are actually the foggiest. Our brains remake a memory from scratch, you know. The memory is never the same twice. That's why most of our precious memories are sealed away for keeping. Rightly so too. You wouldn't want me to take them now, would you?<p>

I am the Greek goddess of clear memories, though you would probably know me better as the Memory Taker. I take the memories of the deceased. I meet the dead at the Lethe and take their memories before they bathe. It just makes the pain easier. I figured if I take their most precious and clear memories then they would have less to forget and it would be less painful for them. Even the dead have feelings you know.

I always find it upsetting when I watch the dead bathe. It reminds me that I escaped death. I cheated it. I played a long game of cheating and got away with it. That's not right. Four long centuries this has haunted me, knowing that I won the game. The game of life is never winnable, we all die eventually, even the best of us.

I regret taking that offer from my mother.

I was dying from cholera when my mother found me. She offered me a end to my unbearable pain and suffering.

Immortality.

I took it in a heartbeat.

However, as I quickly learned, immortality has a price. A heavy price. You watch your loved ones die while you live on. The woman I had come to call mother since I was a babe died shortly after my speedy recovery. My father died about three years later as well as my half sisters. I was left alone, under my birth mother's watchful eye and serving as her faithful servant from there on out. I had nothing left. What could I do but obey the only family I had left? My godly family, my godly mother.

My mother.

Gods, I hate that woman.

She's such a crafty and sly being. I come when my services are absolutely needed and there is no other alternative. I serve my duties and obey my mother like a good daughter should. My duties involve me spending a lot of time around the deceased, as I mentioned before. I have a large jar for the memories I collect and once Apollo's sun has set seven times I am expected to hand the jar over to my mother. I do and the whole process starts again.

My mother expects me to hand in all of the memories, but I don't. I keep the special ones to myself. The ones that don't contain any trace of pain, the ones which are full of light and joy. They keep me happy and amused. They remind me of my time on Earth. They keep me feeling human.

'

When I'm not surrounded by the mourning cries of the dead and I am not needed by mother I will take the time to learn. The modern world is moving at such a fast pace I think the gods are having a hard time keeping up with it all. I travel and read as much as can, gathering knowledge about different cultures as I go. Over the years I have gathered an intensive knowledge of the cultures in the world today. It's very different to when I was a child all those centuries ago. I return to my birthplace quite a lot, not baring to be too far from it and those I love.

My sisters left family before they died and I keep watch over their thriving families, making sure they have the most beautiful and wonderful memories to keep. I don't want them to experience the pain and sorrow I felt.

England, my home, she still has her old ways lurking beneath the surface of all the diversity on her grounds. It's lovely to see some of the old ways still very much alive today.

The rain in England is mainly my fault. The King of the Gods does not like it when I am away from Olympus or his glorious America. You could say I have taken his fancy. I stay as far a way from his as possible. I actually like his Queen and we are on relatively good terms. I do not want to ruin that. Her Majesty is a bad emery to have, so I hear. Zeus sends the rain after me to try and bring me home, thinking I like the hotness. Rain only reminds me of home. I, unfortunately, am the reason why England gets so much rain. Sometimes I take breaks from my home, growing tired some of it now and again but that results in droughts and it breaks my heart to see Apollo flirting with my people. England is under my protection and it is my domain.

When meeting the dead I take the form of my thirteen year old self, the age I was suppose to die at. I feel I can connect with the dead more if I pretend I didn't escape death. Some memories I collect from the dead are so full of sorrow it tugs on my heartstrings.

I collected the memories of a young girl called Bianca di Angelo a while ago. She was one of the few who recognised me and asked me to take all of her memories. I obliged to her wishes but insisted I got to know her first. She told me her story and what she had been through. I felt so much empathy for her and her brother. Once she had finished her story I took her memories, sad to see this bright one go. But it was my job nonetheless.

I did not add her memories to the jar. I put them in my own jar. I wanted to find this Nico she talked so fondly of. I wanted to ease that sorrow by maybe taking some memories from him.

I ended up becoming his patron.

He doesn't know it. I keep a look out for him and help him out where I can.

I was the one who urged his father to talk to his son for once. I was badly injured after talking to him, I'm only a minor goddess after all. But I did it. He talked to Nico in a church that exact same day.

Maybe he'll never know I'm taking care of him. He's probably never noticed me. I'm too quiet to ever be properly noticed. But I don't mind, as long as that boy receives some care and love from somebody then I'm fine. I've slowly and carefully been pulling the bad memories from his mind, easing the pain. He's been through so much. I want to make the load much lighter. It was my silent promise to Bianca, to take care of her baby brother.

I've studied Nico's memories countless times. I know him better than he knows himself. He's so insecure and his sister's death still effects him. I know what that is like. She was so young as well. There are so many things I wish to say to Nico and I have tried many a time but I'm too shy. The words swirl around in my head like the Earth, constantly spinning. I want to say if all you want are answers to your question and you can't seem to find love for free. If you're looking for the right direction, then darling look for me. I'll say those exact words to him one day. Just not today.

Nico's friends are deep in sorrow as well. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase are traumatised by the memories of Tartarus. I've tried so hard to remove as much as I can of Tartarus. It's incredibly difficult. I struggle but I won't stop. I won't stop until the memories are manageable and they can cope. Not be haunted by the reoccurring nightmares of that sinister place.

The same goes Leo Valdez. The various foster homes seem to be a blur to him. I've extracted the memories of some of those foster homes but just left enough to remind him that he was there. Poor Leo, poor smiling Leo. Leo, the most broken of the seven and yet he's the class clown. Poor, sweet, dear Leo.

Piper McLean, her memories are fragile yet joyous in some places. I've not tampered with her mind too much. I'll collect them when she passes on from this world to the next and will greet her like an old friend. I do not wish to take away the false memories she was given by Hera. Her false memories was the base of Jason Grace and her relationship. She's happy now. The memories are too important to touch. I will not be helping her by taking her memories, unlike the previous four.

I've tried easing Frank's memories of his mother's death. I've tried to make the pain more bearable and made the happy memories of them stronger in his mind. It's worked, however I will never be able to extract the full pain of his mother's death. It is not in my power. It would be up to my mother to do that. She's a selfish being and wouldn't do it if I asked.

I've never collected Hazel's memories, despite her being dead for over fifty years. I'm glad I didn't. She has some valuable ones up there that I do not wish to steal. She too has cheated death and that I am glad. She has a second chance at life. My gift to her is not taking the memories that are so dear. I will take what she asks me to when she dies and not go searching through her brain like I do with the deceased. She is the closest thing Nico has to family and I refuse to get between that.

Jason Grace is the tricky one of the seven. My mother had a hissy fit when she found out about Hera erasing his memories. Memories are my mother's life. She controls them. I simply extract memories and ease the pain of them. My knowledge of memories is minor compared to that of Mother's. When Jason slowly began to regain his memories Mother cheered up immensely and even made them come surging back quicker. It was the nicest thing I have seen her do in an hundred years.

The memories of anyone are fragile, especially the memories of the seven.

I keep an eye on them too. Only on occasion though. As long as they are happy then I am happy for them.

No one ever burns offerings to me, I do not mind though. I would rather be a silent angel creeping through the night then be all of a show like that Apollo. Gaia remembered I existed and promised me power if I joined her side. I refused. I am a peaceful goddess. I prefer the ways of the silence.

Silence is golden.

Silence allows time for thought and for people to reflect on their memories.

Memories are important, young demigod, don't forget that.

_I'll be waiting_.

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><p><strong><em>AN: Okay so I actually made up this goddess. Don't kill me either I double checked before I went creating a goddess. There is no goddess of clear memory and collecting them. There is the greek titan of memory but not of the things I have just listed. Mnemosyne is the Greek Titan of memory and happens to be this goddess' mother. The made up goddess is called Clara Mneme. The name literally translates to clear memory (pretty clever, huh?) <em>**

**_I had no idea where I was going with this and just thought it would be a shitty fanfic I would lose interest in. But I am really proud of it and completed it in just under two hours! What the heck? _**

**_Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome, my lovelies._**


	2. The Memory Keeper

**The Memory Keeper**

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><p>Rain is oddly calming, don't you agree? It's funny how it settles the soul and relaxes your mind. Some of the most fondest human memories are formed through it raining. Rain is both enchanting and dramatic. You can't help but feel melancholic as you watch the drops fall. It's all Zeus' doing. I find it strange how the horrific leader of the gods is able to create something so gentle and... tame.<p>

On rainy days I sit, curled up, and watch the rain. It reminds me of when I was mortal. Yet, at the same time, it's the furthest thing I will ever get to feeling mortal. When Zeus mourns my loss, it rains. It shouldn't be this way. Rain should be something which is free, like human emotions.

Emotions are breathtaking.

How much a human can feel is unbelievable.

Gods don't feel human emotions. They seem to have been hardened over the years, their emotions stripped from them. I still feel them because I still have a part of humanity buried deep within my soul. However it is traumatising knowing that as each day passes my emotions leave me too. Only a little. But they are still escaping my grasp. The one thing that keeps me human is abandoning me after all these years. Just like everyone else. I cling onto what I can, sorrow, empathy, happiness - though I find very little of that these days. I don't want to become a smooth, hardened stone. I don't want to become a none feeling machine.

Yet I am.

I am becoming one of them.

Enjoy and treasure every precious moment, my dear one. But please do not get too ahead of yourself. After all, at the end of it all, all we are is skin and bone trained to get along.

Nico is coming along. He often forgets bits and pieces, but I'll make it appear, giving him everything he needs. I think that's the role of the mother. I think a role of a mother is to care and love their child. I care for and love Nico. I've watched him for a long time, watched him grow as a person. I am so proud. I am so proud at what my small thing has become. Slowly, he is letting that hardened shell around him fall. He's letting love back into his life and has opened up his heart once more. I am so proud.

And yet I will never be able to tell him how much I love him and how proud I am of him.

It breaks my heart.

I can't because if anyone knew that I was Nico's patron the whole of Olympus would throw a hissy fit. The distance I have from my home is still not enough distance to patron a child. Nico carries too much on his shoulders. He tries to be brave for the world and the world replies harshly. He's lost nearly everyone he loves. If he knew I was his patron he would boil with anger, thinking he doesn't need someone to tend to him.

But Nico is a mere child.

And like a child he cries. I yearn to hold him when he cries and tell him everything will be alright. I can't and I won't. It tears my heart in two. So I just stick to the simple things, the simple things which can be cast off as conveniences.

Emotions are mysterious things, almost foreign.

I find I connect well with distance these days.

It was two centuries after I had become immortal that I first stepped foot on Olympus. It was the Winter Solarise of 1812 and all the gods, minor and major, new and old, had been invited to celebrate this event, even Hades, Lord of the Underworld, attended. My mother had tried to cajole me into going since I was a newborn goddess. I was the daughter of a Titan after all, a sister of Kronos was not one to reject.

Yet I did.

For two hundred years I managed to place enough distance between that dreaded woman and myself. I was clever and never left trace of where I was or I had been so she couldn't track me down. She caught me eventually. All good things must come to an end. I had been careless and had stayed down in the Underworld for a full week, collecting the memories of the dead. My mother was astonished when I managed to present a full jar to her. I never did. She instantly knew where I was and dragged me off kicking and screaming to the Winter Solstice.

I have never been so foolish since.

My mother dressed me in a light blue gown, a gown which brought out my features. I felt violated and at a loss. I usually wore long sleeved dresses. This one was short sleeved. The form I had chosen was my human one. The Long brown curls that usually tumbled down my back were now pinned back in a bun and my deep blue eyes shone like sapphires. I wore gloves that reach my elbows and was given a fan to use. I looked how I would of appeared if I had reached the mortal age of nineteen. I remember looking at myself and being shocked by what I saw. I saw a long, slender figure who possessed grace and elegance. This was not me. I had hidden my true self through a mask of makeup and beauty. I felt disgusted with myself. Why try being something you're not?

I remember my mother muttering to me how gorgeous I was and the looks were down to her. Pompous twit. I was and always will be my father's daughter. I will always possess my father's looks and his kind-heart. Until the end of time I will never acknowledge myself as my mother's daughter. I will never forgive her for casting this curse on me. She is a cruel woman, whom has selfish intentions.

My mother rushed me to Olmypus, or home as she referred to it as. Home is where the heart is, they say. How true that phrase is. Olympus will never be my home. I don't belong there. I'm an outcast, left to my own devices. I arrived on Olympus and I remember the gods surrounding my mother and I. Hardly any of the gods had met the demigod daughter of Mnemosyne before. The Muses were her only known children.

I was swarmed by various gods and goddesses, all questions about me were directed to my mother. I ignored the harsh remarks made by the older gods about me and how I was 'not etiquette' as I was refusing to make any type of conversation.

I caught Zeus' and Apollo's eye a few times. I pretended I hadn't seen the sexual intentions in their eyes. They studied my body, wanting it hungrily. The light in their eyes was lustful. I was only a very young goddess and had a lot to learn, so, idiotically, I encouraged their intentions.

Apollo tried approaching me later in the day and tried wooing me with music. I will admit I was almost wooed. Apollo was so charming and actually listened to my struggles, pretending like he understood.

However, that's what held me back from being wooed.

Neither Zeus or him understood. They didn't understand what it was like to be a human and then to be ripped away from that life by the flick of a finger. They did not have the raw emotions I still possessed. They were gods. They were not broken. They were not broken by human emotions, by emotions that made me myself. They could never understand. Humans to them were just pests, that made good mates now and again.

They felt nothing.

I made a vow that day, a vow on the River Styx. I would remained chaste and only focus on the matters of our mortal children, humans. I would look after them. Even if all the other gods abandoned them, I would not, I would love them until the end of time. For if there is one thing I have learnt as my time as a goddess, it is that humans are more heavenly then we gods will ever get.

I remember I let out a yell when Aphrodite got her hands on me. She looked me over observantly and just laughed at me. I had never felt more self conscious. I remember panicking and running away from that large pack of gods, trying to find somewhere to hide before the king of the gods or his son could get his hands on me.

I spent hours wandering around Olympus, occasionally passing a fellow deity. My sisters saw me. They turned their noses up at me and my appearance. I remember having a sinking feeling of anguish in my stomach. My siblings had turned a blind eye to me. I was not wanted.

I was not wanted above the ground, but I was wanted under. I was wanted by Persephone and Hades. I was needed, desperately. Without me the Lethe was unprotected and the dead were left to wander. I had to keep things going in an orderly manner. So with a heavy heart and a new found determination, I left the world of scorn and entered the world of twisted love.

Hades greeted me with the hardness he always did, the hardness I always used to rally against. But I didn't today. A faint, ghost of a smile just played on my lips. It was comfort. It was the comfort of knowing that I would always be valued by the dead here and that I was just as important as the other gods that helped to run the Underworld.

Down here I meant something.

Up there I meant nothing.

I remember Hades stopping in mid command and giving me an odd look as I was actually paying attention for once. My smile just grew and he sent me on my way.

Comfort.

A strange emotion.

But by the gods is it the most human one out there.

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><p><strong><em>AN: My darlings, I like this story so much it's going to be a three part story! So one more chapter to go and then we're done.<br>_**

**_Reviews would be lovely!_**


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